The Idol's Idol
by Hagane
Summary: No one knows the Pretender. Least of all himself. (wakatoxkajimoto) A Jyousei Shonan fic.
1. one

_Set after the match with Seigaku, where Jyosei Shounan lost 3-1. _

If there was one thing he craved, it was the attention of millions of worshipping fans – all falling at his feet and more than a little overwhelmed by his presence, their heads upturned to regard him, their eyes wide as they gazed at him with desire, longing, and adoration. Not to mention envy. That would cap it all. To be the envy of millions… what would he give to be their idol, their example, their every reason to live and breathe. Not that he was without fans – he had his fans, true, but they hardly came close to the passionate ones of his dreams. In his dreams, Wakato Hiroshi was a tennis superstar.

Not that he wasn't one now. Hanamura-sensei called him her 'masterpiece', the label he accepted graciously as he did with everything else, but he was not one to be so easily contented. Still, he hankered to be her best work yet, but still Shinjou held on to the title. Argh, if only he'd screw up somewhere. If only he'd crippled that Echizen kid then surely he'd fall out of favour with Hanamura-sensei and he, Wakato Hiroshi, acclaimed tennis prodigy, might finally stand a chance.

The sound of a ball smacking hard against the court jolted him out of his reverie. He'd forgotten momentarily that they were in training and he was currently waiting his turn with Kajimoto, who, he only just realized, had delivered a wonderful service ace past a stunned Youhei/Kouhei pair, unit, whatever.

"6-0" the umpire announced.

The normally brazen twins skulked off the court, shoulders hunched in grim defeat, speechless and stunned at the loss. Not that this was their first time losing to their captain. They'd had many love games in fact, but this time, they hadn't even been able to return, much less counter a serve.

"Kajimoto-buchou is improving I see," he drawled as he sauntered cockily on to the court, "but go easy on me, please."

Said captain didn't reply, arching backwards instead in preparation for a serve. Wakato smirked. Trust his model-student-cum-captain to forgo the bantering and get right to the point. Which was, in this case, to start the game. Well, we was used to being ignored anyway. Throwing a quick glance at Hanamura-sensei who was, predictably, scribbling notes in that trusty data folder of hers, he decided in a moment, who best to become. The only person who could return Kajimoto's speed shots would be…

"Philippousis ne?" Hanamura noted under her breath, "Good choice Wakato-kun, but I'm not sure if even he could take so many power shots at that speed."

Wakato tensed as Kajimoto stated in his usual dispassionate tone, "Sensei, I'm going with 80 first." Their coach gave them an approving nod, her mind clearly already on the outcome of the game, even before the match had started. All other activity in the gym had ceased as everyone watched with bated breath. Wakato as Philippousis… that meant he was serious.

The sudden lack of bustling activity didn't bother him. His eyes, as the rest of his senses, were trained solely on the arched lithe form of Kajimoto. Narrowed eyes noted the sudden relaxing of muscles as the other straightened like a spring, his movement fluid as he sent a high speed serve across the court.

Wakato moved slightly to the right, and his racket face made contact with the ball. The impact was hard, but his Philippousis form could handle it, and with a heave of his arm, he sent the ball back to where it came from.

Whispers broke among the audience- Philippousis was indeed impressive to be able to return the captain's serve and perhaps Wakato-kun might be able to snatch a game from their undefeated buchou after all.

But it was too early to rejoice, he noted tersely, the return was nothing Kajimoto couldn't handle. His grip on the racket tightened. Oh, it was just beginning.

As predicted, Kajimoto caught the serve with little effort, the speed of the return pathetically slow compared to his own. Should he send another hard/fast ball and challenge the other in a rally, or should he press his advantage? He tapped the ball lightly.

Wakato's eyes widened as the ball dropped just behind the net. A drop shot. And a spectacular one at that. The bastard, he thought incredulously, pulling a fast one on me! There he was anticipating a powerful smash or something alike- well he might have fallen for it this time, but he had no intention on making the same mistake twice.

"9.8" Kajimoto's clear voice broke through the sudden stillness of the crowd.

"9.8?" Daichi echoed, "how can you be so sure buchou?"

"9.8 give or take a little," he repeated, turning to their coach, "is that right sensei?"

Hanamura lowered her eyes and nodded slowly. When she raised them again Wakato saw the impressed sparkle in her eyes as she gazed with open fondness at the team captain.

"Gravity drop ne, Kajimoto-kun?"

"I'm not sure if that's what it is sensei," the boy frowned, his eyes trained on the net, "it didn't look like Tezuka's zero-shiki drop shot."

Ah yes, Wakato recalled, the infamous drop shot by the equally famous Tezuka Kunimitsu, team captain of the bunch of clowns. Although, he noted mentally, he'd changed his mind about them after playing Kaidoh in the tournament.

"Well, we could try again ne, Wakato-kun?" Sensei continued, letting her gaze fall onto the other boy. Feeling his sensei's eyes on him, he nodded carefully. "Saa, another one then Kajimoto-kun."

The brunette nodded, although, Wakato noted absently, he was more red than brown. Maybe a nice mix in between, like rich chocolate with a little too much milk and cherries. Yeah, that would be the colour of his hair, or was it more blond than brown? Well, it didn't matter, did it? Kajimoto's hair was not of his concern. He snorted as he caught his thoughts drifting again. Now was not the time to take notice of petty details. He had a serve to return, a match to win, a talent to prove, and a captain to break.

Although, a small voice at the back of his mind nagged, as he ran forward to receive the noticeably less-hard ball (a 68), he didn't know what he really meant by that last part.

--

"Buchou…" he drawled, "I almost didn't make it." The addressed continued on ahead, acknowledging the other only with a brief nod. "Maa…" Wakato pulled a face, "he's the only person who acts like I don't exist." Horrified shrieks of protests nearly deafened his sensibilities as his hoards of fangirls jumped up and down, wide-eyed and looking positively scandalized.

"Mou! No one ignores our Wakato-sama!" declared one.

"Sou sou! Wakato-sama is the greatest!" announced another.

"Kajimoto-san is just jealous na!"

Jealous? he thought incredulously, what could he be jealous of?

"He might be buchou but Wakato-sama is the best!" Shouts of agreement echoed in the background, but Wakato barely heard the commotion as a new thought presented itself to him.

Jealous, buchou, of me? he puzzled. Aloud he said, "Maa…Kajimoto buchou's always like that. Don't mind him ne?" and he gave them one very flirtatious wink, trademark of Wakato-sama. Half the girls fainted.

"Whatever Wakato-sama says!"

--

That night, as every other night, he lay in bed and asked himself the ever-puzzling question: Why did he, Wakato Hiroshi, dashing tennis prince of Jyosei, not have a girl? It was ridiculous really- he was not at all unattractive, in fact he was repulsively good-looking, and he had so many girls ready to fall to his feet and declare their undying devotion to him! Every Valentine, ever since he could remember, he'd been flooded with chocolates and bouquets of roses and singing cards and god forbid, Valentine _bunnies _and every Valentine he rejected them all. All those letters of confessions and professions of love he'd received…they never caught his eye. Never, not even for a moment. It bothered him, this lack of attraction, and it unnerved him that he was not feeling any urgency, need or want for a girlfriend. In fact, he realized as he scrutinized the minute cracks on the ceiling, it was almost as if he didn't care for them at all.

Wakato raised his hands to his face, before pinching himself hard on the cheeks. "Itai!" he grimaced, "What's wrong with you?!"

He glared at the ceiling as if it were the cause of his inner conflict. He knew what was wrong, but he couldn't admit to it.

--

Bend, arch, straighten. Bend, arch, straighten. Bend. Arch. Straighten. Hanamura smiled fondly at her team captain, eyeing his rhythmic motions like a hawk. She watched his lean frame curve ever so gracefully backwards, and noted the rippling of arm muscles as he smashed the ball across. Kajimoto would never cease to impress her. His control over the ball was absolute, and his ability to restrain his power was amazing. He's like a machine, she concluded, accurate and precise to perfection. Her smile widened. He would make her proud.

His play wasn't aggressive like Reiji's or flashy like Wakato's. He didn't have razor-sharp senses like the Tanaka twins. He didn't have a powerful build like Kiriyama, neither did he possess swift agility like Ota. But he was born with an inhuman flexibility with muscles that were uncommonly lax, and he moved with feline grace, even if it was to stop to pick a straying ball. Together with his uncanny ability to control his strength to varying degrees, and his keen intelligence, his was a deadly combination. Subtle, unassuming and far from spectacular, his playing style could throw opponents off guard. That is, Hanamura allowed herself a small chuckle, until they find out what's hidden beneath.

Unleash the beast within ne, my beautiful masterpiece…?

--

"Wakato-kun."

He looked up in surprise when Hanamura-sensei motioned for his game with Kouhei to halt and bid him come over.

"Sensei." He answered, eyes clearly showing his confusion.

"I want to try something out and I need your help."

--

He frowned. This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when Hanamura-sensei came to ask for his help. This was… unexpected, but interesting nevertheless.

"What do you want me to do again, sensei?" he voiced, throwing her a very boyish grin, "I don't think I caught it the first time."

"I just want you to try to return the balls. As much as you can. And I want you to give him as many variations as possible. A spin ball, a high lob, a volley – let him experiment with his shots. I want to see how he returns."

"Sensei?" he asked, not fully comprehending.

She lifted her gaze over to Kajimoto who was taking a quick water break in the corner, and he noted the way her lips quirked into a smile. She had beautiful lips, thick and luscious, and they were forever glossed. His eyes took in the details of her fine features hungrily. Her almond eyes, sharp nose, perfectly arched eyebrows… then he followed her gaze to the corner and his eyes widened.

The long tanned neck that was exposed as he tilted his head back to drink from his bottle… for all the world to see…but for him alone to mark. Wakato had a sudden urge to rush over and attach his mouth to that beautiful neck, but he caught himself in time. He was only vaguely aware that his eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets and that his nose was starting to get runny.

Wait. Rewind.

His nose was getting runny? Quickly he wiped with the back of his hand and could only stare in horror at the smear of blood. Oh God no. Don't do this to me. Oh God. Oh God. He pleaded desperately, aware of what the blood signified. Oh God please, no.

He heard Hanamura-sensei's voice as she continued, but it made no sense to him. He couldn't hear her, didn't want to hear her, not with his own agonized screams ringing through his head.

--

Somehow, Wakato managed to play well enough to satisfy their coach. He didn't remember adopting a certain style and he certainly couldn't recall ever playing at all. It seemed like his body had moved of its own accord, while his mind had been completely out of it. He winced. This was bad.

He'd thought he'd gotten Kajimoto out of his system a long time ago. After all, it only started as the smallest of crushes and it had shamed him even then that he held feelings for another boy, so why did it seem like his little freshman crush had developed into something more? The thought terrified him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to appease his troubled mind that he had only developed a crush on his buchou because he'd admired the other from the moment he saw him. Kajimoto was quiet, and he never stood out, but he performed consistently well, in tennis and in his studies to warrant everyone's attention and respect. His unassuming and accepting nature made him very popular among his peers and within a year, he'd been vaulted as the fuku-buchou of the student council, something unheard of in Jyosei Shounan. A sophomore as the vice-president. Not likely.

But it did happen and no one was really surprised. Everyone had seen it coming: Model student Kajimoto Takahisa for vice-president. It was unanimous. Not a person objected or contested his place.

It was then automatically assumed by the entire student population, that in his senior year he would take the role of president, but he had rejected the position, saying that it would not do now that he was captain of the tennis team. So they had to make do with a replacement, a wonderful boy with the gift of tongue, but who could not, even with all his favourable attributes, fill up the void left with Kajimoto's departure.

Not that any of this actually mattered to Wakato. To him, Kajimoto was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. And he liked pretty things. Very much.

--

"Wakato…" his head snapped up at the all too familiar baritone, "your play today was different."

"Ah Kajimoto-buchou," his stomach was feeling strangely fluttery all of a sudden, "it was something I'd been meaning to save for the National tournament."

"Sou?" Kajimoto quirked an eyebrow in interest, "seems to be very different from your usual playing style. Hanamura-sensei was saying that it was very unexpected, and I have to say that I'm very impressed."

Wakato found himself speechless as the object of his unintended affection graced him with a smile. Disgustedly, he realized at the back of his mind, that he was feeling repulsively happy because of that simple gesture. Which probably had no underlying meaning whatsoever, he grumped. Still, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit annoyed at the other boy for making him feel the way he was feeling right now.

When Kajimoto reached out a hand to pat him lightly on the shoulder, Wakato managed to finally stammer a response he deemed relatively appropriate.

"Aa…arigatou," he croaked, hating the way he sounded so weak, "you're not so bad yourself, buchou. Seems like you've been working hard, ne?" he managed a wink.

Kajimoto grinned. "Why thank you Wakato. I believe that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

He blushed despite himself. "…aa. I'm feeling especially generous today."

The deep chuckle he elicited from the other made him think of chocolate, rich and throaty and…oh he forced the images out of his head. "I'll see you tomorrow then Wakato. Jya!"

He could only stare after the taller boy. Wait, was Kajimoto _sashaying _? He blinked. No he wasn't. It was just his imagination working overtime. In a way he felt disappointed. It would've been nice to say that Kajimoto was seducing him- that way he could believe that it wasn't really his fault that he was responding. After all, Kajimoto was cute, a hell lot cuter than most of the girls he'd seen and met. He blinked again. What did he just say?! Wakato Hiroshi swore for the first time in his life.

--

"Uhh!" he grunted, smacking the ball hard. It rebounded off the wall, and left a deep imprint. Deeper than five munutes ago, for sure.

"Hmmmm?" Kouhei mused, inspecting the damage, "buchou…nice."

"Sugoii buchou! And it was only an 86!" Youhei chirped, waving his racket around excitedly.

Kajimoto caught the ball easily and let drop gently to the ground. "It isn't quite right still…" he muttered, eyes surveying his racket frame, "somehow I'm doing it wrong."

"Ehh? What's wrong with that?" both twins chorused at the same time.

"I don't know…there's just something…" he trailed off, distracted. There was a small crack on his racket frame that hadn't been there the last time he checked. Kiriyama ambled over and looked over his shoulder.

"Buchou…that racket's not going to last for long," he advised, noticing the crack. "Not at the rate you're going."

"Sou…"

It was morning and they had gathered in the gym for a light session. There was no before-school practice that day, but the twins had convinced Kiriyama to join them to play with their captain. Or, as Hanamura-sensei had put it, train him.

"Ne buchou…" Kiriyama began casually, "what is it you're supposed to train for?"

"Daichi no baka." Youhei snorted, "he's going for the junior high invitational camp. Obviously he's training for that."

The heavily muscled boy growled in response, "I know that. I meant what move is he training for."

"Oh." Youhei grinned sheepishly. "Well, you could've been more specific."

"I was. Buchou would've understood, though obviously I can't say the same for you."

"Teme…" Kouhei waved them both to silence.

"Shut up you two. Buchou's trying something out." All three watched as Kajimoto leaned back, more than usual, and swung his racket in a wide arc.

"Saa…" he turned to them, smiling a little, "I need you to serve me a hard ball. As hard as you can."

--

It turned out not to be an easy task. Kajimoto's serves and returns were the hardest around, and he was resigned to receive those that barely came close to his standard. It was infuriating, it was unnerving, but most of all, it was disappointing. He needed someone who could serve him a hard one, otherwise there was no way he was going to master this new stroke.

"Why don't you ask Shinjou-san?" Kouhei asked, in between heavy panting. He was doubled over, hands on his needs, and his shoulders were shaking. "I don't think we can help you, buchou, as much as we'd like to." Youhei grunted his agreement.

"This…" Kiriyama gasped as he tried to catch his breath, "is not…" gasp, "a light morning exercise…"

"I apologise for the trouble," was the captain's ever polite reply.

"No…" gasp, "problem." And he promptly collapsed in a heap on the gym floor.

Kajimoto frowned slightly. And I just had that polished too, he thought, not too delighted at the thought of having all that hard work gone to waste.

--

He had been staring out the window watching the leaves rustle on the branches of the trees outside, fingers twirling a pencil idly when she came, with a throng of people at her shoulder. He looked up startled, and the pencil spun out of his fingers and dropped to her feet. She picked it up with a smile, and held it out to him.

"You dropped this." Her voice was light, airy, almost breathless. He managed a nod, and reached out to take the proffered object.

"Arigato." He noticed the way her fingers curled to graze ever so lightly against his skin as he received the pencil, but thought nothing of it. She leaned forward.

"Ne, Kajimoto-kun, I was just wondering…"

--

The door to the classroom opened with a slam, and a girl burst into the room, red-faced and panting. "Did you hear? Mari-hime's finally decided to confess to Kajimoto-san!" she announced, slightly out of breath.

Wakato perked up. Mari-hime? Wasn't that…?

"Kyaa! She's so brave! I could never do that!" a girl squealed, all but jumping out of her chair.

"Ehh?! Hontou ka Yumi-chan?" several others stood up, their chairs scraping across the linoleum.

"When was this?" they crowded around her, eager for answers.

"Only just!" Yumi could hardly contain her excitement, "she's in his class now!"

"Kyaa! Let's go see!"

Wakato watched as they ran out of the class and down the corridor to witness for themselves.

"Gomen ne, Wakato-kun," one of the girls that were crowded around his table spoke up meekly, "but we'd like to see it too. That girl Mari…and Kajimoto…we have to see. You understand don't you?"

He stared at her, and the rest of the others, who were all nodding in agreement. He sighed dramatically.

"Of course I understand. My boring, uptight captain…this should be interesting."

"Kyaa! We knew you'd understand! Wakato-kun you're the best!" they blew him kisses as all but dashed out the door.

Interesting ne? he thought, feeling a knot in his throat that had most certainly not been there before.

--

Kajimoto squirmed uncomfortably. The class had suddenly become very crowded with people that he was very sure weren't his classmates. What made it worse was that every single pair of eyes was riveted to him and Mari, their curious gazes boring a hole into his very body.

"Aa…etto…" he began intelligently. Mari laughed, a light and breathy sound.

"I would understand if you refused. As captain of our tennis club, you must be very busy."

He nodded, glad that she understood his situation.

"Saa… maybe another time then?" she looked almost hopeful.

Kajimoto felt his breath hitch. "Ah…hai." He bowed politely and nearly all the girls present giggled.

--

"Kajimoto-kun kakoii ne?" Wakato heard the girl nearest to him remark as people began to leave now that the attraction was over.

"He's such a gentleman really. Mari-hime would be so lucky to have him!" her friend replied.

"And he's so cute too!" gushed the first girl, "I wish I was as brave as Mari-hime."

"Me too…" sighed the other dreamily, "to think he's never had a girlfriend…that's just so cute…"

"Maybe he's playing hard to get?" he spoke up. They started in surprise, not noticing he had been leaning against the wall the whole time.

"Wa-Wakato-kun! You gave me a fright!" scolded the second girl.

He grinned unrepentantly. "Gomen…gomen…"

She pouted. "Cheh. If you weren't so cute I wouldn't have forgiven you."

"Ah but I am, ne?" he wriggled an eyebrow at her, causing her to giggle.

"Baka!" she chided him, blushing lightly. "And what was that you said about Kajimoto-kun playing hard to get?"

"Well I'm sure he sets very high standards for his partners…being the perfectionist and all…"

The first girl gasped. "Sou da! He's got very high expectations, although I can understand where they're coming from. I mean, Kajimoto-kun is very talented, and he's so smart…" she dropped her gaze to ground, "…which is why he'll never notice me. I'm not special enough…" she noted glumly.

"Don't say that Arisa-chan," Wakato cupped her chin gently and tilted her face up to his, "I think you're very special."

"Sou…" she diverted her gaze away from his piercing ones, "but he doesn't think so."

His hand dropped to his side and he looked questioningly over to her friend. The girl shrugged and smiled her apology, mouthing a "don't mind her" as she tugged her friend to away.

Once again, not for the first time that day, Wakato was left alone.

--

Wakato collapsed onto the nearest bench. "I think I'm close to dying," he muttered, his eyes fluttering close, "I can't take anymore."

Daichi lumbered over and settled on the floor next to him. "Uus," he grunted in agreement.

"Mou…sensei's being so hard on us today…" Youhei complained from across the court, "I wonder why."

"Buchou and Shinjou-san don't seem to be tired at all," Kouhei pointed out. True enough, the two of them were still at it, in the other court. Hanamura barked orders to the freshmen and they scattered in a hurry. "I wonder what's so pressing…for her to push us like this."

"I think I have an idea." Youhei mumbled, from where he was draped across the chair.

"Another hard one please, Renji." The tall, broad-shouldered player acquiesced to his coach's request, and delivered a hard ball to his captain, although with his Mirage, it didn't look like a heavy one at all. But Kajimoto had played with him for a long time, and he had pretty much figured out the mechanics and workings behind his friend's winning move.

The ball tended to wobble a little if it was a normal serve, he had noticed some time back. So by watching the motion of the ball, he could reasonably predict the kind of shot Shinjou was feeding him. His predictions weren't always accurate, there were times when he'd mistaken a heavy ball for a normal one, so he still had some ways to go with his theory. Nevertheless, the Mirage was a troublesome thing, bound to confuse less composed players. Kajimoto prided himself in that he'd had the advantage of knowing Shinjou inside out. Thank God.

He moved his grip to the end and angled the racket approximately 50 degrees to the vertical. Shinjou's eyes narrowed when Kajimoto countered with a drop shot.

"That's enough for today," Hanamura motioned, "futari domo."

"Hai, sensei." Both players obediently stepped off the court and received the towels she held out for them.

"You both did well."

"Arigato."

Hanamura chuckled. "Renji, I think you're the only one Kajimoto-kun likes playing with here."

Shinjou looked at her in surprise.

"Am I mistaken, Kajimoto-kun?" she continued, her eyes twinkling with barely concealed amusement.

"Iya, you're right. It's more challenging to play with you." Kajimoto grinned at his friend.

"Sou…" the other replied, still surprised. They bowed to their coach and excused themselves, both heading off to change.

"Kajimoto." Shinjou began, as they walked out of the gym together.

"Hai."

"You risk damage by flicking your wrist," he stated, glancing at the other's slightly swollen forearm.

He kept quiet, staring straight ahead.

"Why?" the taller boy pressed.

"You're being unnaturally inquisitive today Shinjou," Kajimoto answered, still not looking at the other.

Shinjou flushed angrily. "I am concerned."

"That's a first." When the other boy bristled in anger, he quickly added, "But thank you for the concern, even if it is unnecessary." Shinjou stopped in his tracks, Kajimoto not long after. "It would undoubtedly put a lot of strain on my wrist at the beginning, but once I get it mastered, there will be no problem." He turned to regard his vice-captain. "By flicking my wrist, I put an extraordinary spin on the ball, so that it moves vertically upwards in a straight line." Shinjou nodded to show he understood. "But it accelerates downwards at a sharp angle so that it just grazes the net and falls into the other side of the court."

"Well thought of," Shinjou conceded, "but how long till you can master it?"

Kajimoto stared right back at him, his gaze unfaltering even as he met those cold blue eyes. "The reason why I need your help."

--

"Wakato," he acknowledged as he passed the other at the gate. As usual, the third year idol was surrounded by his ardent fans who were squealing and gushing and fawning all over him…or had been anyway, until they realized he was there.

"Kajimoto-kun…" He nodded at them before turning away.

"He's so cold," someone whined, "it's like he's not interested in girls or something!"

"Mari-hime is so lucky to be the one to melt the ice!" another remarked, watching the departing back longingly.

Wakato stared after his captain. Somehow, he felt happier, although he couldn't figure out why.

--

Mari-hime, he mused, the prettiest girl in school, possibly the whole Kantou region, and the only daughter of one of Japan's wealthiest tycoons, hence the title '-hime'. One of the few girls who had never succumbed to his charms and the only one brave enough to confess to Kajimoto Takahisa, famed bachelor of Jyosei Shounan. He would say most eligible, but Wakato thought he deserved the title. After all, he knew how to treat a girl. All that buchou of his knew was how best to win the next game, how best to answer the exam questions and how best to mess up with his mind. Wakato growled and threw a pillow at the ceiling. He hated this feeling.

--

"What's wrong buchou? Don't you like her?" Kiriyama asked, baffled by his captain's apathy.

"Buchou…you've got the hottest girl in town begging for your affection and you don't care?" Ota asked, half convinced their captain was a robot.

"It's not that…" he began, attempting at an explanation. But before he could say anything, Youhei interrupted.

"Then what is it, buchou? She not good enough for you?" Youhei sighed, "You know what they're saying in school? They're saying that you think you're too good for anybody."

"Youhei!" Kouhei gaped at his brother, aghast that he'd said such a thing to the captain.

"But it's true!" Youhei pressed eagerly, almost furiously, "Everyone's saying that Kajimoto-buchou thinks he's above everyone else!"

"Youhei!" Kouhei almost screamed.

"And the girls!" the younger twin continued, blatantly ignoring his brother, "They all say that you make them feel like they're not worth your attention! You know how many girls cry for you buchou? Everyday I know at least one who says you've broken her heart! Everyday! You have to do something buchou! Mari-hime…" his eyes had a wild look to them when he stormed over to his seated captain, "you have to accept her!"

Confused, but refusing to show it, Kajimoto respondedly calmly, "I don't understand."

"Buchou!" Youhei all but screamed.

--

When Wakato made his entrance, fashionably late as usual, he was greeted by an unusual sight. Youhei had his mouth taped and his limbs were bounded by strings. Daichi stood guard as he watched the boy thrash wildly on the floor, his muffled cries of protests sounding nothing more than unintelligent mumbles. Ota was over-enthusiastically feeding the captain with shots on the court at the farthest end and Kouhei wore a decidedly scandalized expression on his tomato-red face. Or was that cherry-red?

"Ohayo minna!" he waved cheerfully. "Sorry I'm late."

Nobody paid him the slightest bit of attention. "Mou…" he pouted, "I'm being ignored."

Kajimoto practically pounced on Shinjou as the latter made his appearance in the gym an hour late. Muttering a "Let's go", he dragged the taller boy with him towards the fitness room.

"What?" Shinjou snapped irritably, removing the painful grip on his arm.

"We need to build up our muscles so we'll start by toning them," Kajimoto answered.

Shinjou scowled.

--

"Oh so that's why he was so tense," Wakato remarked, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Kouhei glared darkly at his still-bound brother. "And it's all his fault."

"But you know, he would've found out sooner or later," the redhead pointed out.

"I would have preferred him to find out from someone else."

"But that's pretty interesting…" he mused aloud, "if he rejects the girl, then he'll only prove everyone right, but if he accepts her confession, he'll also prove everyone right. He's in a fix either way." Youhei squirmed in agreement, nearly banging his head against the wall as he did.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Kouhei accused, "buchou's in trouble and you're looking so happy about it."

"Of course I would," Wakato smirked, "it's not everyday you see the captain in a tight spot." As soon as he said those words, graphic images of a blushing Kajimoto squirming under him came to mind. Horrified, he pushed those thoughts away. What in the world was happening to him?

Kouhei eyed him strangely. "You'd better leave him alone." He warned before stalking off to drag his impertinent younger brother by the hair to the fitness room.

Looks like the little one has an interest in the captain as well, he noted.

--

He followed after the twins to the fitness room, Daichi and Ota in tow. Hanamura-sensei looked up from her notes when they arrived and immediately sent Daichi and Ota out to run 5 laps around the school compound where the twins were already running their second lap. Shinjou, she requested to follow her to the gauging room, to measure his pulse and breathing rate as he ran on the modified treadmill. Wakato, she instructed to stay and do some weight-lifting to tone his muscles.

Finally left to his own devices, Wakato turned to find that he was actually not alone. A certain captain was bent over a machine, lifting 50lbs towards his chest, then releasing it slowly. The movement was meticulously repetitive, and Wakato found himself staring. He strode over to say hello, but was distracted by the way those shorts were so tight around that very nice butt. His staring apparently did not go unnoticed and Kajimoto stopped his exercise to turn and address him.

"Wakato."

He nodded mutely, and watched, enthralled as Kajimoto stood up and straightened his rumpled attire (including pulling down his shorts that had previously ridden up).

"Let's start with the legs shall we?" the other walked over to one of the equipment and motioned for Wakato to follow.

"I'll go first and you hold this for me." He pointed to a lever. Wakato nodded. As Kajimoto laid down and hooked his ankles around the weight, his grip on the lever tightened.

"Ready when you are."

Wakato pushed the lever down as Kajimoto raised his legs towards his body. It was a tiring exercise, and soon enough, Kajimoto was perspiring and panting.

"100. Your turn." He made to stand up, and Wakato helped him to his feet. His legs felt wobbly and when he tried to take a step forward, they gave way. Instinctively (or not), Wakato reached out to break his fall, and they ended up on the floor, with him sprawled on top of his captain.

"Ne buchou…" he whispered, "this is kind of comfortable don't you think?" A faint blush spread over his captain's cheeks as he realized their very compromising position. Wakato had one leg between his own and his face was pressed to his neck. He wriggled uncomfortably.

"Ne, Kajimoto," Kajimoto shivered as the redhead's lips brushed against his neck as he spoke, "Stop that if you know what's good for you."

He froze. Then a mischievous smile spread across his features. "Why?" he asked calmly, beginning to wriggle again.

Wakato groaned. "Don't."

"Why not?" The younger boy lifted his head to look up at the other and was surprised, although not unhappy, to see a grin on his face.

"Because I'll do this," he whispered huskily, his right leg rubbing slowly and gently between the other's. Kajimoto gasped softly.

"Wakato!"

"Hmmm?" the leg was rubbing harder and faster now. Kajimoto groaned and his body arched forward, wanting more pressure, needing more pleasure. "You like what I'm doing?" The other boy nodded, his face fully flushed and he was panting harder than he had been after the exercise. "Want to see more of where that came from?" he bit teasingly on an earlobe, his tongue tasting the metal of the other's earring. The moan he received in response was louder and he chuckled, before sticking his tongue into the ear. Kajimoto jerked, his body reacting to the multiple sensations. That leg was moving faster and pressing harder…and were those hands caressing the skin under his shirt?!

Wakato chuckled, delighted at the response he was getting. His right hand began to play with an erect nipple, and his left grabbed the soft, chocolaty hair, pulling Kajimoto's head down for a passionate kiss.

"Wakato…" the other whispered, eyes glazed with pleasure.

"It's Hiroshi for you, Hisa-chan," he whispered back, before he began sucking on that long beautiful neck.

Wakato woke with a start when he rolled out of bed. He blinked, still very disoriented, before realizing what had happened. When he did, he cursed, feeling both angry and a little disappointed that it had been a dream. He stormed to the shower, very annoyed with himself.


	2. two

Chapter 2 of The Idol's Idol

He was finding it unusually difficult to concentrate during his classes that day. No matter how hard he tried to focus his gaze on his sensei and the blackboard, somehow his eyes would wander over to the classroom door like he expected someone to walk in any moment. His heart was pounding so fast he was sure it was going to explode before the morning was over. His senses seemed enhanced somehow- his whole anatomy was on the alert. What for, he truly didn't know.

Okay, so maybe he did know. He was waiting for Kajimoto to walk in through that door, waiting for Kajimoto to come up to him and give him a harsh telling off, waiting for Kajimoto to flush angrily as he came up with a smartass reply, waiting for Kajimoto to storm out of the class, head held high and trying to act like he wasn't really angry. Although anyone who knew him well enough would probably see through the façade, he thought. Oh well, it wasn't his place to criticize. After all, he was the source of the other's anger.

Wakato had been a naughty boy, of that he was fully aware. He was sure he deserved whatever they threw at him for skipping team practice three days in a row, but the knowledge didn't comfort him in the least. Hanamura-sensei was very hard on delinquents, and his playing truant for the past few days was going to earn him some very severe punishment from the normally mild-mannered coach. Maybe if he dropped out of the team completely, he might get away with it. Not that he was seriously considering dropping tennis for good. No, he would threaten to quit if sensei insisted on disciplining him. She'd probably let him off the hook and beg him to stay, anything, if only he wouldn't leave the team. Wakato snorted. Yeah right, and pigs could fly.

Can't they? A part of him argued. If you put them in an airplane, they could!

That's beside the point! The other argued, you're in trouble whatever you do!

Wakato sighed. Oh he was in trouble all right. His sensei had finally had enough of his restlessness and was standing by his table, rapping a long wooden ruler sharply to get his attention.

Oh of all the rotten luck, he thought disgustedly.

* * *

Hanamura frowned at him in disapproval. "It goes without saying that I am extremely disappointed with your behaviour, Wakato-kun. I would have expected more from you, however, judging from your absence in the last three days, I have been very much mistaken." She adjusted her glasses and he noticed the way they glinted under the harsh gym lighting was almost ominous. "You will be punished of course, but after that you are allowed to resume your training." She glanced over at Shinjou who was next to her, "Renji here will tell you what you have missed during your very long…absence." She waved him away.

* * *

"So…Shinjou-fukubuchou, what did I miss?" he asked cheekily as he followed the vice-captain across the gym.

"Plenty." Was the one-word reply.

"Go on," he urged.

Shinjou glanced at him disdainfully, and he had the impression that he was looking down his nose at him, but Wakato, being the way he was, grinned it away.

"You will feed the balls to Kajimoto for the rest of the week as punishment," the taller boy told him impassively.

If Wakato wasn't Wakato, he surely would have cried right then and there.

* * *

Great, the reason he had gone MIA for the past three days and he had to come face to face with it the moment he reappeared. Had he really done something wrong in his previous life? Did the Gods really hate him so? What exactly did he do to deserve this?

Facing the cause of his absence was bad enough, but having to feed him for the rest of the week…he couldn't think of a worse punishment. And apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Wakato-san, you've gone and done it haven't you?" Kiriyama asked in awe. The boy with the rippling muscular physique gaped at him like he was some demigod. Which he was, in a way. No one dared to cross Hanamura-sensei intentionally, although Wakato had come close to doing so in the past. He was the only one foolish enough after all, as Kouhei put it.

"What?" he feigned ignorance. It always worked in his favour and he was sure it wouldn't fail him this time.

"Feeding the buchou all those fast serves…you must have really made sensei mad," the second year continued, his doubles partner nodding furiously in agreement.

"Aa…" he nodded, pretending not to care.

Kiriyama whistled. "Well, you won't skip practice so easily next time, once you're done."

"What?" this time, he couldn't keep the panic out of his voice and he winced inwardly as he practically squawked like a deranged crow.

Youhei nodded sympathetically and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Buchou's been practicing with Shinjou-san. They haven't played with anyone else for a while." The look the younger Tanaka threw him made his spine tingle. "And sensei's been asking Shinjou-san to feed heavy balls to buchou."

"Yeah…" Kouhei spoke up, "and they've been using Deep Impulse in secret. Kajimoto-buchou's gotten hurt several times, but he won't give up. He's trying to master some new move I think." He looked thoughtfully at the court, then, "It's that gravity drop I think. The one he used the last time you played." Kouhei nodded at Wakato. "He's perfecting the move."

Youhei looked impressed. "How come you know so much?" he asked, genuinely curious.

A flash of irritation before his brother replied, "I happen to be more observant than you think."

Youhei bristled at the indirect insult. "I'm not…" then he paused, giving his twin an odd look, "oh so that's why you've been disappearing after practice and all…"

A furious blush spread across his features. "I have not!"

"Have too!"

"Have not!"

"Have too!"

"NOT!"

"TOO!"

Their voices were rising by an octave with every shout and Ota frantically waved at them to keep it down before…

"What's the trouble here?" Both twins clamped their mouth shut immediately and whirled around to face their frowning captain and their none-too-happy vice-captain.

"Buchou! Fuku-buchou!" they managed to squeak. "It's his fault!" At this, they pointed at each other. Wakato would have chortled at them if only he didn't feel so unnaturally conscious of his captain's presence. As it was, he shrank further into his uniform and wished that a hole would just appear and swallow him up. Please don't let him notice me, he prayed silently, please let him not see me! Even to his own ears he sounded ridiculous, but desperation made people do illogical things sometimes, and no doubt, Wakato realized absently, this was one of those times. Kami-sama, he begged, mentally on his knees and prostrating before his deity, please please PLEASE don't let him see me!

"Wakato-kun," he heard his sensei's familiar voice at his shoulder, "what exactly are you doing?"

The redhead cringed when he realized that his efforts at making himself invisible to the captain had only succeeded in getting everyone's attention. "Uhh," he fumbled for an excuse, "I'm not feeling well, sensei." That wasn't a lie, not entirely. He really was feeling ill at ease, what with Kajimoto barely five feet away.

Hanamura frowned at him, concern evident in her features. "Then you shouldn't have come for training today. I will not have you exert yourself when selections are around the corner. Kajimoto-kun," here she motioned for the tall boy to come over, much to Wakato's horror, "please make sure he gets home safely. You're dismissed too."

Kajimoto bowed, "As you wish sensei. However, I was in the middle of a service match with some of the non-regulars…" he left his sentence hanging.

Hanamura picked up on it immediately. "Reiji will see to it that they get their practice. You've been at it longer than anyone else Kajimoto-kun. You're dismissed for today, and you too, Wakato-kun."

"Hai, sensei." Both boys bowed before turning to leave. Wakato thought he heard a frustrated 'It's all your fault!' directed to the smaller twin as they left the gym, but when he snuck a glance at his captain, who seemed not to have heard anything, he shrugged it off.

I seriously need to sort myself out, he thought, I'm considering Kouhei as competition- for HIM! He sighed audibly, and HE isn't even aware of the ruckus that he's causing!

Kajimoto ignored him, dismissing it as his usual antics. "Get changed and I'll meet you at the school gate," was all he said before he disappeared into a room, "I'll walk you home."

If lightning could just strike him now, Wakato would let it so he could die. Yes, right now.

* * *

He snuck another meek glance at the other boy from under his cap. And oh! Was he thankful that he always had his cap on because how else would be explain to his captain that he suddenly felt very uncomfortable without it and needed it so he could hide from that stare?

Not that the other was staring. He wasn't even paying Wakato the least bit of attention, which put him off just a little. Wakato was Wakato, the school heartthrob, the one with the huge fan-base, and with his own platoon of cheerleaders screaming him on at his matches. He deserved some form of acknowledgement at the very least but this…this person was denying him even that!

To sum it up, Wakato felt really lousy inside. And, he mused miserably, it was probably showing on his face, but it's not like he'd noticed. Noooo…Kajimoto-buchou was especially dense when he was supposed to be tactful, and particularly keen when he wasn't supposed to be paying any attention. Wakato sighed. He really hated his life right now.

"Are you okay?" Kajimoto's voice was soft and hesitant, but it still startled him out of his preoccupation. His shoulders jumped a little and he grinned nervously at his superior, from under his trusty cap.

"Aa. Just a little…jumpy," he joked, laughing lightly to emphasize his point. Kajimoto frowned but didn't press the matter.

"So…" he started, suddenly desperate to keep the brunette's attention on him, "I heard you've been practicing." Mentally, he slapped himself and cursed the stupidity of his statement. Oh that was brilliant, just brilliant! Of course Kajimoto had been practicing! Unlike himself, who had been skiving off for the past three days…

"The junior senbatsu camp is in two weeks. It's better to practice as much as possible to increase the chances of selection," Kajimoto replied coolly, "you should too."

His grin turned sheepish and apologetic. "I should. But since I'll be training with you, it should be okay, ne?"

Kajimoto finally turned his gaze on him and Wakato marveled at the sheer beauty of those strange lavender eyes, so unique and pretty like the person himself. Yes, there was no doubt, he thought distractedly, watching with dreamy eyes the way the sun's rays fell on those beautiful brown locks, and set off the tanned skin, and how the wind toyed with aforementioned locks, tossing them around in a carelessly attractive fashion, that Kajimoto _was_ so very pretty.

"I suppose. But it's better not to get careless," Wakato watched in fascination as those ridiculously luscious lips shaped to form words, and he unconsciously licked his own dry ones. "Are you even listening?"

"Huh?" He tore his gaze away from those inviting, cherry-red lips to meet the other's mildly affronted look.

"If you're starting a conversation just for the sake of it, then please don't. Silence is much better than meaningless chatter."

_Meaningless chatter!_ Wakato fumed inwardly, how dare he when it took me so much to try and say something! Aloud, he repeated, "Huh?"

Kajimoto rolled his eyes. "We're almost at your house I think."

"Ne, buchou," he asked, suddenly snapping to full attention, "where do you stay?"

"Not far."

"But where exactly?" he knew he sounded horribly eager, but it hardly mattered at the moment. He could berate himself for it _after_ he found out where Kajimoto lived.

"Four streets away."

"Four streets away?" he echoed in wonder, "that's really not that far!" Kajimoto nodded carefully, completely unaware of where this was headed, "how come I never knew?"

"Because you never asked?" Kajimoto responded with a question of his own. Wakato grinned, idiotically happy in his newfound discovery.

"You never told me!" he said accusingly.

"I never saw the need to," the other replied, adorably clueless of the thoughts that were now running through his head.

You will, in time, Wakato promised, chuckling evilly.

* * *

Later on, as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as was his custom, he wondered what exactly had possessed him. He'd made Kajimoto promise to wait for him outside his house the next morning so that they could go to school together, and he had agreed, somewhat reluctantly. But the point was he _had_ agreed and Wakato saw no reason to gripe over how obviously desperate he must have sounded. Kajimoto was the only thing occupying his strangely empty mind these days, and there was only one way to get him out of his system: spend as much time with him.

Theoretically, this was how it was supposed to work: if they spent so much time together, he'd eventually find a flaw in his captain's character, which would definitely smother his interest, since Wakato wasn't the type to settle for anything less than perfect. Either that, or he would eventually get sick of seeing so much of pretty that he would decide that Kajimoto was really too much for his liking.

Theoretically, of course. In real life, things never quite go as planned and he wondered with some worry what might mess up with his carefully formulated logic. He prayed it wouldn't be anything important.


End file.
